


Double Standards

by reyescott



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 12:04:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10570950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reyescott/pseuds/reyescott
Summary: companion piece to 'Pretty Damn Good'. Scott's not so good when the tables are turned and Reyes is the one injured.





	

Field disaster always happens in the span of a breath.

One minute, Scott's staring down the scope of a rifle, aiming, breathing in steady, finger on the trigger--

And the next, SAM's voice is crackling at the base of his skull. "Pathfinder--"

"What?"

"Mr. Vidal requires medical attention."

The words take a moment to register. Scott loses his target. "What?"

"Repeat: Mr. Vidal--"

"I told him not to do anything stupid!”

“I believe it was an accident, Pathfinder.”

Scott closes his eyes. “What happened?” he asks, but means, What do I do?

“The roekarr were nearby. Their life signs were cloaked. Mr. Vidal was the closest target.”

Scott scrambles to his feet, trading his sniper for an assault rifle, clambering down the cliffside. Idiot, he thinks. Don’t let yourself get distracted. He’ll be fine. “SAM, last known location?"

"Fifty meters ahead, Pathfinder."

"Did you call the Tempest and tell them to prep for incoming wounded?” Lexi’ll get him patched up, no question about it. Just—gotta find him, get him back to the Tempest—

"No response."

Scott makes a noise in his throat, a bleak, strangled chuckle. He can hear gunfire, Drack laughing--he picks up the pace. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"The Tempest isn't receiving incoming transmissions. I cannot make contact."

Scott ducks for cover, squeezes his eyes shut. Calm--keep calm. He scrambles for his omni-tool connection, hands shaking. "Tempest--can you hear me?"

He only gets the one chance—there’s a loud roar above his head, and a fiend jumping to his position from above.

Scott’s not suited for up-close-and-personal fighting. It’s why he’s fifty meters from his team’s position, breathing steady down the scope of a rifle, instead of up there, watching Reyes’ back.

Maybe he’ll have to change that. Close combat is scary—this is terrifying.

He aims his gun, takes a deep breath, and shoots, and—the fiend erupts in a splash of black goo, and Scott’s underneath.

His shields take damage, but nothing major. They’ll recover—he needs to get to Reyes and the others.

“Scott,” someone calls, and he turns to see Vetra rushing towards him, Drack behind her, and… Reyes, limp, in his arms.

That strangled noise comes from his throat again, and Scott drops his rifle to the ground as he rushes forward.

“What happened?” he asks. His voice is shot, hardly a whisper. His hand hovers, shaking, over Reyes’ form. Not sure where he can touch, but wants to feel everywhere. Make sure he’s still in one piece. He settles for the arm dangling down, fumbles to feel his wrist.

“I believe he is unconscious, Pathfinder. His pulse is slowed, but stable.” Scott exhales, sharply. Not good.

“Can you contact the Tempest yet?”

“Attempting.”

“Looks worse than it is, kid,” Drack says, but his voice is, for a krogan, comforting. “Makes you feel any better, I sent the roekarr that hit him flying.”

Nodding, Scott bites his lower lip, worrying it until it tastes blood. “Was he hit?”

From behind him, Vetra says, “I think maybe, but nowhere vital. Most of it was from the fiend.”

“The fiend?”

“The one you finished off. Came charging after him. Roekarr had an easy target.” Drack stares at him, silent, for a moment. “You okay, kid?”

Scott squeezes his eyes shut tight, shakes his head, just once. “SAM, contact with the Tempest?”

“Dr. T’Perro is waiting your return on the Tempest, Pathfinder. Forwarding coordinates to your map, now.”

Scott looks down at Reyes again, brushes his fingers through his hair, and backs away. He’ll be fine. “All right, move out. SAM, fastest route to the Tempest’s updated location?”

——-

Scott’s never been good with waiting, it turns out. He enlisted in the Alliance to travel the stars, got assigned to Arcturus, and nearly went mad with restless energy. He signed up for the Initiative on a whim, because Sara and Alec did, and couldn’t wait to get going. He fell into the Pathfinder role and couldn’t wait to get off his ass and actually do something, prove himself.

Can’t wait for the moment everyone leaves and Scott can finally step forward into Reyes’ space, press his face into his neck, and relax. Feel Reyes strong beneath him.

Yet, as soon as Lexi leaves the room, and Reyes is sitting on the edge of Scott’s bed, Scott uncrosses his arms and exhales, shakily. Doesn't move forward.

Reyes, who’s got a hand pressed against the bandage on the side of head and the other rubbing his forehead, looks up. “Scott,” he says, leaning back on the bed. “Come here.”

His feet don’t move. The moment he moves, the moment this becomes real—too close to losing him. Too close to disaster. And Scott wasn’t there.

How much worse would it need to be, Scott thinks, before it would’ve been too late?

“I’m fine,” Reyes says, a smile playing at his lips. Bastard. Knows just what buttons to press. “You worry too much.”

“I worry too much?” Scott says. “You—fucking—“ He takes a deep breath. “You could have died.”

Reyes raises an eyebrow. “Oh? And what of the times your SAM has killed you?”

“That’s different.” His voice cracks. SAM is irritatingly silent, Scott notes, but he'll welcome the silence.

“Is it? That’s not how I see it.”

“SAM isn’t in your head. He couldn’t do anything for you.” And isn’t that terrifying. The second the words cross his tongue, Scott starts shaking again. “Reyes…”

“I run into far shadier business deals without you around, you know.”

Idiot. That doesn't help. “Which is why I want you here, on the Tempest, so I can—“

But Reyes is shaking his head. He stands up, and Scott steps forward, hands out, ready to catch him if he falls. He’s steady on his feet for a man beat to hell and back. Walks like nothing happened.

“You know as well as I do it doesn’t work like that.”

Scott feels his throat go tight. He came into this job, terrified he couldn’t do it, hasn’t let himself down thus far. But this… Somehow, this feels like he’s lost. “So what am I supposed to do?”

Reyes is still coming closer, his footsteps echoing in Scott’s quarters, steady as he steps into Scott’s personal space, takes Scott’s hands into his own, and intertwines their fingers. Scott focuses there, where their fingers press together, and clamps down on the knot of emotion in his stomach. “I’ve found accepting that we have difficult jobs is the first step.”

“Yeah right.” Scott sniffs. Not quite crying, close to it. “What’s next?”

“That you trust that I do not go into situations half-cocked, as you’re so fond of doing—“

“I do _not_ go into situations half-cocked,” Scott says. “I go into situations fully-cocked. “And—this is different, this isn’t you coming up with some grand plan with loopholes and plan b’s in case something goes wrong, this is—“ A matter of playing safe in an unknown. Playing God in uncertainties.

Yeah, he’s being a hypocrite.

He reaches out, brushes against the bandage pressed to Reyes’ head, and says, his voice quiet, “I just got you. I don’t want to lose you.”

Reyes chuckles, low, wraps his arms around Scott’s waist. “You will not lose me.” He brushes his lips to Scott’s, and Scott’s eyebrows furrow, holding back. “I guarantee it.”

“You’re so fucking arrogant,” Scott says, not unkindly. “You think that’s gonna save you from wayward bullets, aggravated wildlife?”

Shrugging, Reyes says, “It’s worked well so far.”

“And when it doesn’t?”

“We don’t worry about when it doesn’t.”

“Reyes—“

“A two-way street,” he says. “Most of the time, I don’t know where you are. Your entire ship could go down, and I would know nothing about it.” Reyes fixes him with a stare. Scott holds his ground. “You have an important mission. I’m lucky to have you when I do.”

Scott shakes his head. “It’s not the same,” he says, but can’t find the words to explain why. That he left the Milky Way hoping he’d find someone, anyone, to build a new home with, how Reyes, with his sunsets, his pet names, his smooth, romantic voice, fits the bill and then some.

How Scott’s in love with him and can’t bring himself to say it. He rests an open palm against Reyes’ chest, shaking his head. He's put Reyes through this before. He’s been through this without Reyes knowing, and Reyes… takes it all in stride. Pulls Scott to him when he’s patched up, helps him heal, and lets him go again.

A deep breath, then, “You’ll be careful?”

“I always am.”

Scott makes a noise. “More careful.”

“For you, anything.”

Relaxing his hand on Reyes’ chest, Scott nods. It’s no promise, Scott can’t hold him to it if it was, but—it’s something. A recognition of how much this fucks Scott up.

Reyes leans forward, nuzzling against Scott’s neck. Scott’s fingers scrabble on Reyes’ shoulders, his breath hitches. Reyes lifts a hand to rest at the back of Scott’s neck, pulls back, and smiles.

And Scott, finally, breaks.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this high on cough meds and in one moment of lucidity wondered if it would still work for SAM to contact the tempest... but went with it anyway. I'm already ignoring major parts of canon, so what's this one thing
> 
> find me on tumblr @reyescott, we can talk about soft boy scott ryder and how much he wants to kiss boys


End file.
